


Show Me How You Feel About Me

by Entwife_Incognito



Category: The Mentalist
Genre: Episode Tag, Episode: s05e22 Red John's Rules, F/M, Fluffy, Romance, secrecy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-30
Updated: 2016-09-30
Packaged: 2018-08-18 17:23:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8169847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Entwife_Incognito/pseuds/Entwife_Incognito
Summary: Lisbon needed to know something from Jane, something to put her heart at rest and give her patience to wait for Jane to be free. Her instincts, her reason told her that a real conversation was the right thing to do, both personally and professionally. But how, with Jane's desperate need for secrecy, for risk that Red John would target her? Maybe a silly idea, but it wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote it. One-shot. Another episode tag for 522 'Red John's Rules.' Different, but sweet, I think. Try it! Rated a gentle "T" for suggestion. Disclaimer: I own nothing about The Mentalist.Previously posted on FFnet on May 17, 2013. Updated here with considerable editing to improve readability.





	

The night seemed hushed, waiting as Teresa Lisbon was waiting. The team's case was finally concluded. Cho, Rigsby and Van Pelt had left the scene together to make their way home for the night. Lisbon had something on her mind, something she needed to say to Patrick Jane, and now was as good a time as any. She'd thought it over for days. Her instincts and her reason told her that talking about it was the right thing to do, both personally and professionally. The question in her mind had been how to honor Patrick's clear position not to have the conversation while meeting her own conviction that they must have it. Lisbon realized that the tactic she had settled on might be clumsy and awkward, but what conversation on the subject would not be? Time to get out the hammer and crack the puzzle box open! She would try to cover the hammer with velvet. She took a long slow breath.

"Jane."

"Mmmmph?" Patrick Jane was looking out the passenger window where he had been quiet for a long while now, balancing Lisbon's hesitation with his patience. Her car was their second office, comfortable and familiar, a place of conversation or no conversation where they could sit undisturbed in the bubble of themselves. Evening was coming on and lights began to blink on in the city's windows. He could tell there was something important on her mind and she was finally making a start on it.

"Do you trust me?"

Now she had his attention! His quizzical look was a reward for her delicate opening. Her lips were set tight, but there was no anger in them. "Yes, Lisbon. I trust you. We're partners. Remember?"

Of course Lisbon could not forget their partnership, hard won. That was about work. And certainly friendship . . . in a non-socializing, on the job only sort of way . . . But her questions, her need to know went deeper. Directly calling up Patrick's trust was an alert that he needed to think and respond seriously. Where she planned to take them was very risky territory . . . personal. The other day, she'd told Patrick, "I can't continue to work like this."

He'd cut her off by rushing a great gift into her hands. "I admit, I am secretive and controlling". And he'd actually made an overture of change right then and there, telling her a name from his suspect list of seven. Lisbon knew it was 'bait and switch,' but she'd let it pass. Because what he gave in that moment was important, on every level of their relationship . . . and what their relationship could become.

Exasperated in the moment, later she'd laughed out loud about it . . . at home in her pajamas, over a glass of wine. Patrick Jane had controlled her by cutting her off to admit he was controlling and would change! He just couldn't help himself. A smile played at her lips, but disappeared quickly. He didn't want their feelings for each other to be in the open between them. Pretend they don't exist, they won't cause trouble. Especially with Red John.

No. Their feelings were so obvious that first Lorelei and then Sean Barlow, people closely associated with Red John, could see and use them as a weapon. If they knew, Red John surely knew. It was foolish for Lisbon and Jane not to clear the air between them, no matter how uncomfortable it made them feel. A false reality was a danger between them, a lie. Well, Jane could take control of his own feelings. But she had to take control of hers. Lisbon gauged the night. Calm and inviting. On another evening she would be enticed out for a walk. Not tonight. Why did these things always seem to take place in the car?

"I'm going to ask you something, Jane, and you won't cut me off even if you're afraid or uncomfortable."

He froze at her reference. Teresa was picking up the conversation he had barely managed to stop a few days ago. He'd felt sure then that she was about to confess her feelings for him. Revealing that Gale Bertram, her boss, was on his suspect list had completely distracted her. And after seeing Lorelei's DVD with Red John's message, Teresa had to know that any feelings they acted on for one another would draw Red John. Once those feelings lived in the world between he and Lisbon, would either of them be able to delay acting on them? The serial killer would not be after Patrick. No. Red John's goal would be to torment Patrick for eternity by killing Lisbon. They couldn't have this conversation!

"Teresa. You-."

"It's okay, Jane. Patrick. You trust me. Remember?" She had no intention of making him talk about something that generated such fear in him. Maybe he could tell her another way.

Jane tensed and backed himself into the corner of his seat and the door, slouching into its curve. His mouth was a grim line set in his pale face, but he looked into Teresa's eyes and nodded.

His dread almost unnerved her. Keeping her hand low to minimize visibility from any observer, Teresa held it out to him, palm down.

He sat bolt upright and stared at it, so pale and graceful in the dusky night. Hands so small, but he knew how strong they were.

"Take it."

Jane looked at her. Teresa's resolve almost gave way as she watched him. Like a child, the tragedy of his past and his fear of the future was naked on his face. He wasn't hiding from her.

It was hard to make him so uncomfortable. But this was for her, too. It had to be done, and this was the way she had chosen as the gentlest. "Take my hand, Patrick."

His teeth fretted his lower lip and he averted his gaze.

"Please. Trust me."

"Okay, Teresa." Patrick slowly raised his hand and rested the flat of his long fingers against her little ones. He chuffed in surprise but did not remove his hand. The warmth of their fingers together felt like living plasma that, if allowed to work its way, would make one hand of the two.

"I'm going to ask you to do something. It may sound strange, but it's important. Do you still trust me?"

Jane nodded, astounded at the power of the woman over him. Not because his hand felt like new life when he touched hers, but because she had him completely in her thrall. And he knew, trusted, that the outcome would be good.

"I have feelings for you, Patrick." She was calm; he shifted and licked his lips anxiously. "Shhhhh." Teresa tilted her chin slightly up to emphasize her barely breathed hush to him, that he did not have to speak.

For a moment, it looked like Jane's fear would overtake him, but he mastered it to listen to her and did not drop his hand as Teresa continued.

"I know you already know this. Hell, Lorelei knew it. Sean Barlow knows it. It's dangerous to us if our adversaries openly flaunt knowledge that we deny. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Patrick lowered his head a little, nodding. He gave a tiny shrug of assent. He knew from his own internal arguments that hers was one valid way to view their situation. He'd chosen another way, and she'd accommodated him. Until now. "Yeah. Yes. I understand, Teresa."

"I'm not asking you to talk about this openly. I know that's too hard for you. I'm not asking you to say anything. But we have to know this about one another. It's important."

Patrick looked up at her. Teresa had woven a mystery that he was unable to penetrate, but he felt a part of its living cloth. What was she doing? He nodded again.

"Use my hand."

Patrick looked at her quizzically.

"Use my hand, Patrick. I know you feel it's too risky to talk about it or act, so you'll have to show me. Show me with my hand how you feel about me. I'll understand you."

In the first giddy moment, Patrick was 14 again with an impulse to place her hand over his fly and allow her to know what she could do to him, watch her face as she felt his desire for her grow. Looking at Teresa's face now as she arched her eyebrow at him, sure she knew just what he was thinking, he realized that was not enough. It was not what she was asking. He smiled to himself, at least not all she was asking. Patrick suddenly became tired of thinking. He was glad Teresa was not pressing him for words. In this arena, words made him very afraid. But he would try to show her. She needed it. She deserved an answer.

Hooking her fingers over his, Patrick bent down and brought Teresa's hand a little closer, looking at it and not at her face. He brushed her small fingers with his thumb, then raised his other hand to place hers there, palm to palm. Her wrist was so petite and just out of its cast. Gently, his fingers feathered across it, feeling the little bones, and running his fingertips up and down the top of her hand. He wrapped his hand lightly around her wrist, resting the flat of his fingers against the underside to feel her pulse throbbing there.

Teresa watched her partner quietly. She did not try to stem her breathing or slow her pulse, only let them flow through her so that she could concentrate on Patrick.

He turned her hand gently palm up, again using his fingertips to play along the surface and trace down the length of her fingers. So small and delicate, compared to his, but he knew much strength resided in them. Slowly, Patrick lifted her hand. He leaned further and pressed his lips into the center of her palm, making the tiniest sucking noise when he pulled them away. Warming to this way of expressing himself, Patrick kissed her wrist, so soft, the veins so delicate, pulse throbbing against his lips. Then he kissed the ends of her fingers, sucking each tip lightly in turn.

Curious about Teresa's reaction, he shifted his gaze to her face. She was flushed and her lips were parted, eyelids a little droopy. But she was calm, determined to "hear" him out.

This time when Patrick brought his lips to Teresa's hand, he wrapped his own around it, curling it into a little fist and holding it gently with both hands. He kissed the top and then mouthed the flesh between her thumb and forefinger, scraping it gently with his teeth and sucking it thoroughly. When he drove his tongue into the circle her fist made there, Teresa jumped a little and took a sharp breath. She recovered immediately and did not interrupt him or even try to pull away. He licked the little hole of her fist, kissing the fleshy part once more, then carefully released her hand back to her.

Patrick looked at her, his eyes smoldering. His voice croaked as he spoke softly. "That's how I feel about you, Teresa."

Teresa nodded, then smiled at him. "We have the same feelings for each other, I think."

"Yes. I'm glad we had this little talk."

"Uh-hunh." She took a minute to get her breathing under control. She knew her heart would never be. "We'd better go now."

"Yes." His voice was soft, a secret between them. He straightened and buckled his seat belt.

Taking a few more moments to savor what had just happened, Teresa said with venom, "We need to get that twisted bastard, Red John."

Patrick smiled and nodded, but his eyes were sad, thinking of the dangerous hunt ahead of them. "We will."


End file.
